


I Know the Weight of You

by azure_horizon



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Angst, Drug Addiction, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 02:03:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure_horizon/pseuds/azure_horizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows that this is found only at the bottom of a cocaine bottle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know the Weight of You

**Author's Note:**

> **Title|** I know the weight of you  
>  **Summary|** He knows that this is found only at the bottom of a cocaine bottle.  
>  **Pairing|** Watson/Holmes  
>  **Rating|** R  
>  **Words|** 533

He knows – God, does he know, know, _know_ \- that Holmes is as high as a kite. He knows it from the way his pupils are, by the way his hands are almost manic on the knot that holds Watson's housecoat together, by the way his kisses are sloppy and wet and by the noises that escape his throat – unbidden.

But Watson also knows that he doesn't care; that he's had Holmes like this before and while they both wake the next morning sore and aching and littered with bruises and teeth marks and while Holmes wonders what happened, Watson is already beating himself up for the things he knows he cannot change.

He knows the cocaine bottle smashes underfoot as Watson stands on it with his slippered feet; he can feel the cool liquid seep against his skin and Holmes almost hesitates, almost stops but Watson drags him back, their teeth clacking together and Watson can taste blood, suddenly.

It's always like this. Always.

He knows he should stop it, he knows they will spend the next month skirting around one another, trying to find their tenuous equilibrium again as they recover from this frantic rush to just _be together_.

He knows it's counter-productive to... well, to _everything_ but he knows he cannot stop it. That he _would not_ even if he could.

Because as much as he knows that it's wrong and immoral and sinful, he knows that he is all of those things. That he's even worse than that because he craves the wrong and immoral and sinful; that he wishes Holmes craved it, too, always – not just when there is cocaine floating through his system and pounding at the muscle in his chest.

Watson knows that this isn't really Holmes – that the man he wants and loves is somewhere else, somewhere floating a few miles above the atmosphere. But as Holmes falls against him, he knows the weight of the other man, knows how to angle his head so Holmes can find the pulse point in his neck, knows how to twist Holmes' loose cravat until it falls about their feet, knows how to undress his companion in under two minutes. And then he knows the weight of his cock, hard and heavy and hot against his own skin and he knows that this body belongs to Holmes, that Holmes is there somewhere – even if it is a few miles away, looking down.

It's over quickly – it always is, the first time – but Watson knows that it won't be long until they are both stirring again, ready for more – ready again. So he takes Holmes' hands in his own and knows the detective will follow him to either of their rooms. He lays Holmes down and he knows that Holmes won't mind if he lays behind him, that he won't mind if Watson twists his arms around his waist, or even if he eventually slides his cock into the opening that is always ready and waiting for him.

Watson knows that, in the morning, he will pretend to regret it. He knows that Holmes will know it's an act.

But both of them are safe, in this knowledge.


End file.
